The Quest For Hope

The Escape: Chapter Three

Elsa turned around, facing the wall, hoping that if she couldn't see them, then they couldn't see her. She cringed and forced a smile when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

"Princess Elsa," her father announced. "Please meet our neighbour to the north, Duke Weselton." 

She almost laughed when she saw the man standing beside her father. Her eyes grew with disbelief as she counted the deep lines crossing his face. The years in the harsh sun had not been kind to the prince. This had to be a joke on her father's part. He couldn't possibly want her wed to a man older than himself.

"Duke Weselton, it's nice to meet you." She hid her disdain in a curtsy. "On a clear day, I can see Dragon's Gate arch from our library. Is it as beautiful in person as it is from afar?"

"It is beautiful, but not nearly as beautiful as you." His dry lips scraped over her hands as he lifted them in a kiss. "I would be honoured to show you it one day. The beauty of the north is different than here in the island. There is much to enjoy-exotic spices, rare jewels, rich weavers..." His words trailed off. 

King Agnarr excused himself as the duke continued.

She pleaded with her eyes, but he ignored her. A small smirk played on his lips. She sighed as he disappeared into the crowd.

Elsa managed a small smile for the duke. A gnawing pain grew in her stomach as she listened to the man, heard the implication of his words. The idea of becoming his wife nauseated her.

Duke Weselton continued speaking, walking her toward the secluded shadows of the room. Her heart pounded as his grip tightened n her elbow.

"We mustn't leave the ball," she panicked, trying to pull him back to the light.

His eyes stared, piercing through her dress. "I thought maybe some privacy would be in order to discuss our wedding." His eyes quickly rolled back over her.

His boldness shocked her. Her heart beat wildly as she scanned the room for help. Now that she wanted eyes on her, she found none. Draping her right hand over her forehead, she feigned weakness.

"I need a moment, sire," she said, fanning herself with both hands to add space between them. She didn't doubt the pink tone of her face; outrage alone darkened it. "Sire, we must discuss this matter later. I am feeling too faint at the moment." Elsa fluttered her eyelashes for added effect. "I will be back shortly," she said, walking away from him. She had no intentions of returning.

The moment of relief didn't last long. Before she got the chance to hide from any suitors, she saw her father's crimson robe. He approached with a new man cloaked in black. Behind them, she saw the Princess of Corona watching with curiosity.

Elsa tried to walk by, but the king grabbed her arm and made her stay.

"Princess Elsa, I wanted to introduce you to a new visitor to the kingdom. This is Prince Hans of the Southern Isles. He had travelled the farthest to meet you and was hoping for a dance." Her father winked at her and mentioned to the band to start a new song.

Prince Hans laughed and bowed deeply. "Your father seems a bit enthusiastic this evening." Deep green eyes twinkled at her above a mesmerising smile.      

"That is certainly one word for it," she agreed. He was just a few years older than herself, and she relaxed in his company. Prince Hans carried himself with the confidence of a noble: calm, poised, and charming.

"Father said this is your first time here in our kingdom. How do you like it so far?"

"Each moment is better than the last." His words lingered in her ears, and she forgot her reservations.

Time slipped away as they danced. She floated along to the music, guided by Prince Hans's lead and strong arms. Behind his shoulder, the Princess of Corona watched with a smile, nodding her approval. Prince Hans must have passed her test.

Her approval reminded Elsa of the principle of the matter. Her smile faded. Handsome or not, she refused to give in to her father's demands. 

"I'm sorry, I really must go," she said, stopping mid-step.

"Go?" He questioned, looked around. "But we're in the middle of the dance." 

"I know, but I'm not feeling well."

"I can try and help," he offered with a smile.

"I'm sorry, you must excuse me." She pulled out of his grasp.

"Of course," he said, but she noticed his eyes darken.

The staircase that meant her freedom kept moving. She hadn't noticed how far they had danced until she looked at the stairs, positioned at the far side of the room. Her escape still remained out of reach.

The music continued, and the trumpets blared in a rising crescendo. She moved in the rhythm of the music, matching its tempo. Each step took her closer and closer until she felt the cool surface of the handrail. As the trumpets reached their final note and she took the first step up, someone grabbed her hand.

As she turned, her father greeted her disappointment with the next suitor. Her plan had not worked. No matter what she did, he kept bringing men over. What would it take to get him to understand? 

Baron Minstrel, a quiet, middle-aged man, ran the sheep farms near Morengo. Not royalty, but wealthy merchant with business interest and extensive trading routes. Crinkling her nose slightly at the lingering smell of sheep mixed with wine, she curtsied and touched his outstretched hand with her fingertips.

Having had too much to drink, he stumbled into her as he bowed. She shot her father a look of disbelief. King Agnarr raised his eyebrows in a warning before walking away. 

The Baron's words were slurred as he attempted to be charming. His already-strong accent was garbled by wine, and she didn't understand anything he said. His gestures left even more to the imagination. But she understood his eyes. Bulging and red, they raked over her body. His hand slid along the railing at her side until he leaned against her.

Elsa looked at Baron Minstrel and bit her lower lip, then gave in and ran up the stairs. She didn't look back or stop until her bedroom door locked in place behind her. Leaning against the back of her door, she savoured the victory. She had made it.

Smiling to herself, she undressed, humming a melody while pulling up the covers. She tucked herself in and smiled, prepared for the sweet dreams of success.

***

King Agnarr fumed as Elsa ran up the stairs. Her attitude needed adjusting before people knew of her disobedience. His eyes wandered from potential suitors to the decoration to the dancers and settled on a guard. An idea filtered in.

He raised his glass to the surrounding crowd.

"It seems," he began with a glance around the room and a deep chuckle, "that the excitement of the evening has caused our Princess to feel faint. I can only hope that a good night's rest will leave her ready for tomorrow's feat. Instead of our normal summer tournament, I suggest we find her a champion. May our Princess have sweet dreams of suitors," he said, winking to the gentlemen. "And may we drink and dance to the celebration at hand." 

The room roared with excitement as the band started back up. An upbeat melody left dancers laughing as they spun. Colours twirled like a living rainbow. 

King Agnarr sipped his glass and smile. A few unplanned events, but everything still progressed. He had a plan, and it was nothing a tantrum could stop.